


White Christmas

by ZaeraDee



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Dancing, Everyone Is Gay, F/F, Happy family special, Hurt and comfort, Kylux - Freeform, M/M, Singing, Stormpilot, War wounds, White Christmas AU, it needed to happen, what can i say
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-13 19:42:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9139438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZaeraDee/pseuds/ZaeraDee
Summary: An AU based on the Force Awakens characters and the general plot of White Christmas.After WWII Poe and Finn Dameron take to the stage as a power house entertainment duo. Every Christmas Eve they can't help but think of General Hux, the commander of their former division, legendary singer, and the man who saved their lives. They don't know what's become of Hux, but want to pay him back if they ever find him.Rey and Ben Solo are an up and coming act on the showbiz scene, but Ben's time serving overseas is catching up to him. In a last ditch effort to secure Rey's future, he turns to the Dameron's and an old army connection.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I finally finished! I'm late for Christmas, but have a Happy New Year!  
> I'm my own beta, so I apologize for any typos. But I think I caught most of them!

A song can be heard drifting in the chilly Christmas Eve air as an army jeep pulls into the advanced camp of the 151st Division.

Sharp, precise steps lead the passenger from the vehicle and into the roofless remains of an old stone church. A heavy helmet rests on the ginger head of General Armitage Hux. The weight is nothing compared to the knowledge that his men go to the front lines in the coming morning, but he bears it with pride for the sake of his outfit.

He slips into the gathering and steals a seat on an empty crate at the back of the crowd. He waves down the soldiers who notice him, not wanting to disrupt the ragtag concert.

He looks over his men and women – worn, tired, often far too young, but not broken. Every effort he takes to whip them into a semblance of order and discipline helps to keep them alive a day longer in the harsh warzone. The Allied forces will push as long as necessary, but he hopes his efforts leave as few behind on the battlefield as possible. They are his people, and he will look after them.

Captain Poe Dameron sings the last of his song, and his face lights up when he catches the General’s eye. “General Hux, sir!” he says, jumping to attention with a salute and a beaming grin.

The rest of the soldiers follow suit and scramble to attention.

“At ease,” Hux instructs lightly, a faint smile on his own lips as he walks between his troops. It will be as good of a time as any to speak with them before curfew.

“Are you going to sing, sir?” asks Finn, one of Hux’s young privates who appears to be assisting Poe at the front of the crowd. “Wouldn’t seem like Christmas without hearing a song by Armitage Hux!” He falters and straightens to salute again before adding, “With all due respect, General Hux, sir.”

“I said at ease, Private!” Hux barks before turning back to Poe. Hux can see the rubble around them has been intentionally pushed aside. “Is this your doing, Captain?” he asks the man, a brow rising as he appraises his fidgeting Officer.

“Well, seeing as it’s Christmas Eve an’ all, and some of these kids probably grew up listen’ to your songs, I thought it might be a nice surprise – sir?” Poe replies, his smile faltering.

“Thank you for reminding me of my age, Captain,” Hux snaps quietly, trying not to roll his eyes. “You’re not far behind, I’ll remind you.”

“Yessir, sir! But I mean, if we were back in New York we’d pay a pretty penny to hear you, sir,” his subordinate tries again. “Seems like a waste is all.”

“I’m well aware of my professional history, Captain,” Hux replies sharply, but reaches inside his trench coat for his worn, metal pitch pipe. “I never said I wouldn’t sing.”

Poe’s expression lifts as he holds out a hand and takes Hux’s helmet from him.

“At attention!” Hux commands as he turns on his heel to address his troops, his hands clasped behind his back. He inwardly smiles as they all snap to attention once again, finding the space for straight lines even amongst the disorder of their surroundings. Even so, familiarity is comforting and it never hurts to reinforce his desired standards. “You’re a sloppy, unorderly bunch, and you have yet to meet my expectations. I will accept nothing less than perfection going forward.” His narrowed eyes slowly scan each individual before him.

More than one soldier finds themselves swallowing hard under the intense scrutiny of their commanding officer.

After a long pause, Hux shifts his stiff stance and brings the pitch pipe to his lips. He motions for the troops to sit as he closes his eyes and lets the note settle in his mind. It might be snowing back home, he thinks wistfully. He should be up on stage surrounded by freshly cut pines full of tinsel, his voice stretching across America through the television network. But right now he opens his eyes to homesick faces smeared with dust and sweat. The closest they have to snow is falling ash from the disturbed rubble. 

 “ _I’m dreaming of a white Christmas_ …” Hux’s smooth tenor gently covers the hunched shoulders of his people like a warm blanket, easing their worries for a brief moment in time. The last words leave his chapped lips and a contented silence falls.

Poe quickly strides back to the general, tears in his eyes. “General, I –“

“Take cover!” Hux shouts, his body tensing as the first of a squad of enemy planes dives the devastated town.

The troops throw themselves down before scurrying as quickly as they can to find cover. Poe nearly loses his balance as the ground shakes, and Finn grabs his arm in an attempt to steady them both.

Hux barely has time to shove the three of them behind a crumbling wall before the strafing hits. His helmet is still in Poe’s hands, and he shoves it on the Captain’s bare head before covering his own with his arms. He holds his breath as the planes make another pass.

The dusty ground explodes, and bits of stone and plaster fall – though these white flakes are not gentle, but heralded by crashing thunder.

By the time the planes move on, Hux’s ears are ringing and his chest aches. He brushes the rubble from his head and pushes at Poe and Finn. “Act lively now, men,” he says, feeling a sudden pain in his chest as he tries to breath.

“Think they’ve moved on, General,” Poe agrees, cautiously moving out of cover, and tilting back Hux’s helmet to check the sky.

“You alright, sir?”

Hux hears the Private’s question, but it seems distant. Perhaps it’s the ringing in his ears. He grasps at his coat and pushes a hand inside and against his uniform. It’s unpleasantly warm and nausea swims in his stomach. His gloved fingers are red when he pulls a shaking hand away. The image blurs before him and the ground is suddenly much too close.

“General!”

***

“So I said, ‘Don’t phone me, I’ll phone you,’ ” Poe laughs as he undresses, alone with his partner in the dressing room of a Florida theatre. Their trunks line the floor, filled with various suits and costumes for their large variety of acts and ready to be shipped out. He tosses his bow tie to Finn.

“Now I’ve heard everything.” Finn rolls his eyes and catches the tie with little effort – their pre and post show routines long since memorized after years of repetition. “Who’d have ever thought we’d be on the giving end of that phrase, huh? Still, it’s nice to have a choice where we perform.”

“Are you kidding? We’ve put blood, sweat, and tears into this show!” Poe replies, hanging up their stage suits and pulling out their dinner clothes. “It’s well deserved, baby.” He stops in his underwear to motion at an invisible newspaper headline: “Poe and Finn Dameron, the Dynamic Showman Duo of Post-War America – the Must See Show of the Season, Five Years Running!”

“A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do,” Finn says with a toothy grin, pecking Poe on the lips before grabbing his suit from the other man and stepping into his pants. “Besides, I think we can thank ol’ Hux for beating the work ethic into us.”

“Isn’t that the truth,” Poe sighs, his posture deflating. “You know, I can’t help thinking about him when this time of year comes around.”

“I wish I could tell you to let it go, but I feel the same way,” Finn admits, leaning up against the dressing room counter, his arms crossed over his undershirt. “He saved our lives and it’s like we stole his. The man used to perform in this theatre!”

 “Part of me still thinks it should be him up there instead of us – like we got the chance because he had to retire,” Poe adds, dropping back into his chair to irritably pull on his shoes. “Just wish we could make it up to him somehow.”

“Not like he’d ever let us, even if we knew where he’s been hiding himself,” Finn shrugs sadly, straightening his lapels in the mirror low mirror before pulling on his jacket.

Both men look up to a sharp knock on the door. Their stage manager pops into the room with a stack of papers.

“Mail came in late today fellows, but I guess it’s that time of year,” he says, handing over the stack to Finn, who is closest. “Not that it ever slows down for you two, even when you give your cast a paid vacation. What a gift!”

“Hey, they’ve earned it,” Poe says emphatically. “Me an’ Finn, we run a tight ship, and they never let us down.”

“Don’t I know it!” their manager laughs. “Well, try to take a day or two for yourselves. Merry Christmas!”

“Same to you,” Finn calls after him cheerfully, flipping through the post. “Hey, would you look at that.” He stops to tear open an envelope and pull out a letter.

Poe stands up and takes the envelope from his husband. “Solo? As in Benny Solo? Wasn’t he that quiet kid with the –” He motions to his head.

“The big ears, ya,” Finn chuckles. “Got moved to a special division shortly after I was transferred into the 151st.” He hands the letter to Poe. “Good thing the mail came in, or we might have missed this.”

Poe drags a hand through his wavy hair and skims over the letter. “He wants us to see his sister’s act?”

“Sure, why not?” Finn smiles. “Asks if we can give Rey a bit of advice.”

“Well, I can certainly think of worse ways to spend our last night in Florida,” Poe relents, tossing the letter onto the counter. “Even if I was hoping for a little candle light and close dancing with a certain handsome sap.” He carelessly drops his arms over Finn’s shoulders.

“Let’s just say we’re doing it for a pal in the army,” Finn chuckles, earning him a light cuff on the arm, and the crooked grin he fell in love with during the war.

“Well, it’s not a good reason, but it’s a reason,” Poe replies, watching Finn read through the rest of the mail while he hastily finishes dressing.

***

“Good evening, Mister and Mister Dameron!” the club host greets them, ushering the couple through the crowd. “I have a table reserved for you at the front, gentlemen.”

“Great!” Poe replies. “Always reliable, Snap.”

“Anything for you, Mr. Dameron!” the man says. “Dinner has just been served.”

Poe and Finn settle in for the show at the front of the club, enjoying the band before the floor act begins.

“Still can’t believe Benny has a sister,” Finn says, digging into a tender fillet eagerly.  

“Let’s hope she takes after the other side of the family, huh?” Poe laughs as the conductor turns to the audience. “Here we go!”

“Ladies and Gentlemen, the Solo Siblings!”

“Siblings?!” Poe and Finn mouth at each other, gaping as the Solo’s take the stage.

Poe blinks, taking in the duo. “Dang! Do you remember Benny looking like that?” he sputters.

“And where’d he find such a cute sister?” Finn adds in disbelief.

Ben Solo is not the young man the entertainers remember, but a tall, muscular man with an unusual head full of long, dark waves framing deep, thoughtful eyes, and a mirthful smile. Add spunky, charismatic Rey Solo to the mix and the cocktail of strange allure and youth is downright intoxicating – and the two haven’t even started to perform.

“Good evening!” Rey greets the audience, her curled up-do bouncing on the top of her head as she spins to her brother’s far side.

Rey and Ben perform a charming number about being siblings, poking fun at each other with song and dance.

By the time their performance is done, Finn and Poe are all smiles, and they have to keep each other from standing up and demanding an encore. Fortunately, they haven’t gone unnoticed by Ben, and the Solos join them shortly after.

“Bravo, bravo,” Poe says, standing to shake their hands. “What a pleasant surprise!”

“That’s what we should be saying!” Rey exclaims, happily greeting the two men. “Whatever brings Poe and Finn Dameron here of all places?”

“One of my favourite clubs in the state,” Finn replies, winking as he motions for them to sit. “It’s been a long time, Benny.”

The elder Solo cringes slightly. “Ben, please,” he requests with a low laugh, much more reserved off stage. “I haven’t gone by Benny in years.”

“We were surprised to get your letter, but even more so to see you as part of the act! We were under the impression we were here for your sister,” Poe says, calling the waiter over for more drinks.

“Ben?” Rey gasps, her eyes wide. “You didn’t!”

“You’ve been twisting my arm about finding you some ‘professional feedback’,” Ben says with a knowing smirk, looking to the other men. “She seems to think her brother’s humble opinion isn’t good enough anymore.”

“You’ve got rocks in your head, honestly!” She gives Ben a glare across the table that could melt rock, before giving the couple an apologetic look. “I’m dreadfully sorry about this. I swear he always got some sort of angle going.”

“Think nothing of it,” Poe waves her off, trying not to laugh. “He wrote and we’re here – nothing to get upset about.”

“I hated to use an old army connection, but I thought it might be worth a shot,” Ben admits, taking a sip from his glass.

Finn nudges Poe with a foot and subtly tilts his head toward the dance floor.

“Say, if you want to make it up to us, doll, why not let Finn take you for a whirl. I can see his feet itching through the table,” Poe offers, taking pity on the young woman’s guilty conscious. “That dreamboat married an old man who wants to take it easy tonight.”

“Gladly!” Rey says, tension visibly leaving her body.

Finn snorts at Poe’s excuse, well aware of his husband’s ageless energy, but doesn’t protest. He lets Rey pull him onto the dance floor, the two easily joining the bobbing crowd of couples.

Poe watches the two in silence for a few minutes before turning his attention back to Ben. “So, what’s the real angle, pal,” he asks, not unkindly. “You and Rey are doing swell. I can hardly offer any advice.”

Ben draws in a deep breath, swirling the water around in his cup. “I’m hoping to pass her on to another act,” he says, his brows furrowed.

“Hoping to hit it solo, Solo?” Poe jokes, but leans forward to listen in earnest.

“Like hell,” Ben curses, before catching himself. “Sorry.”

Poe raises a brow, but doesn’t acknowledge the outburst. “So what’s the problem?”

“You know I was transferred to a Special Forces unit, right? Let’s just say the job wasn’t kind to body,” Ben explains, his mouth tight and his gaze downcast. He tugs at a lock of hair before pulling it and his collar back a bit to expose some rough scar tissue. It’s clear now that the mark continues across his face but is covered by thick makeup. “I’m not sure how much longer before I’ll be forced to hang it up and I hate to see her end up with some creep because I ditched her.”

Poe falls back in his chair, like the air’s been punched out of him. It reminds him all too much of the General.

“Guess we can’t win them all,” the Ben shrugs, trying to lighten the mood. “‘Least we got this far – it’s given her a good start.” He bites at his lip and stares out at the dance floor, trying to spot Finn and Rey.

“And Rey doesn’t know, does she?” Poe asks, crossing his arms as Ben shakes his head.

“She’d insist on easing up on my part or something, but it wouldn’t do her justice, and I hate to see her go solo,” Ben blurts out, rubbing his forehead. “She was a lonely kid and whether she admits it or not she’s better around people.”

“Seems like a good kid,” Poe says, with a smile. “I can see why you’d worry about her.”

“Look, I don’t mean to get soppy and I don’t expect you to do anything, but I thought maybe you could keep your ears open and let me know if you come across an act that might suit her,” Ben says. “I can push on for a while yet, and we’ve got a sweet gig over the holidays, so I can take it easy, but I’m running out of options.”

 _What did Finn say again?_ Poe scratches the bridge of his nose. “Swell. Okay,” he agrees with a nod, putting out a hand for Ben to shake in his massive palm. “We’ll do it for a pal in the army.” _Speaking of Finn_ …“Now, where did those two go, anyway?”

“I was wondering the same thing,” Ben muses, pushing back his chair and walking around the edge of the dance floor.

Poe follows the man, feeling a bit dwarfed behind Ben’s broad frame. He can’t see the dancers anywhere, but stops as he passes a side door, laughter drifting inside. “Hey, Ben, out here,” he says, tapping his arm and motioning outside.

They find Rey and Finn still locked in hold, but no longer moving – Rey has her taller partner bent back in a low dip, the two of them laughing gleefully.

 “What is this, the best two out of three?” Poe quips, crossing his arms and raising his eyebrows.

“I guess we got a little carried away,” Rey laughs, straightening up with a hop and pulling Finn up with her, showing off a lot of hidden strength.

“Well, as much as I’d love to join, sounds like you and your brother have one more number,” Poe says, nodding back inside. “I can hear the band ramping up.”

“Oh, bother, already?” Rey huffs, scurrying back inside and dragging Ben with her. “Come on, buster.”

“Thanks again, Mr. Dameron,” Ben adds, before allowing himself to be herded inside.

Poe waves, and turns back to Finn. “Have fun?” he asks mirthfully, noticing the light sheen of sweat on his partner’s face.

“Damn, Poe, that girl can dance!” he says, taking in a big breath and pulling out a handkerchief to wipe his face. “Maybe you can convince her to give you a dance later.”

“She’d better if she’s already worn out my dance partner!” Poe replies. “This is supposed to be our night out after all! But I like the kid. I’m glad we came.”

“Rey mentioned they were booked for an Inn in Vermont over the holidays,” Finn says, taking up Poe’s hands and twirling him around as to prove he isn’t tired yet.

Poe gives Finn a disbelieving look. “You were dancing hard enough to break a sweat and you still carried on a conversation?”

Finn rolled his eyes. “I did say _she told me_ – so not really a conversation – but yes.”

“Ben mentioned the same thing,” Poe says, taking his turn to spin his husband as he smirks. “He also wants us to keep our eyes open and see if we can find a good gig for Rey – he’s thinking of retiring.”

“Retiring? He’s not much older than me!” Finn replies, slowing their steps. “He’s not sick is he?”

“Old war wounds.” Poe grimaces, laying his head against Finn’s shoulder. He lets the other man rock them slowly around, ignoring the beat of the music inside. “Did Rey say what that Inn was called?”

Finn hums, leaning his cheek against the top of Poe’s head. “Columbia Inn, in Pine Tree, if I remember right.”

“Say, baby, I’ve got a bit of a brainchild,” Poe hums. “How’d you feel about spending the holidays in Vermont? I hear there’s lots of snow this time of year.”

“I’d do it for a pal in the army,” Finn murmurs, pressing his smile into Poe’s soft hair.

***

Poe and Finn grab tickets for the train going out that night. They make it onboard just as the last passengers are loading.

“Finn?” Ben gawks as he drags an armful of luggage onto the train. “Poe?!”

“Tickets, please,” the attendant asks, his hand out toward Ben, who isn’t paying attention and hands the man a suitcase.

“The Dameron’s? What about them?” Rey asks as she hops onto the train behind her brother, a small trunk on her shoulder. She peeks around his solid form, and takes one look at the self-pleased grins of the Dameron’s in the train car before turning on her brother. “What sort of wacky, cock-eyed plan have you enacted this time, wise guy?”

“Hey, hey, cool it, Rey,” Ben pleads, juggling the luggage as she squeezing past him. “It’s not what – ”

“You are such. a pain. in the neck,” Rey groans, dragging her free hand down her face.

The dark haired attendant clears his throat. “Tickets?”

“Say, Rey, no need to let your brother have it,” Poe says, walking forward with his hands out like he’s afraid the girl is going to cuff him. “This was our idea. Thought Vermont might be a nice place for a holiday. We could do a bit of skiing, take in a show. Here there’s so top class act booked in.”

Rey drops her hand, her eyes icy. “Listen, Mr. Dameron, I’m not sure what Ben has told you, but I want to assure you that – despite recent setbacks,” she pauses to glare at Ben, who cringes. “We are perfectly capable of looking after ourselves.”

“We know you are, which is exactly why we’re here!” Finn butts in, forcefully cheerful. “What better way to take a break then enjoying a show we don’t have to direct?”

“Precisely!” Poe nods emphatically. “We could use a change of pace to plan our next blockbuster.”

Rey’s eyes dart between the three men. “I still don’t to buy it, but alright.”

“Let’s not inconvenience the fellows,” Ben says, he voice low. “How about a snack?”

“Killer diller,” Rey relents with a flat voice, eyeing them all suspiciously as she walks through to the dining car. “You’d better be paying after I coughed up the money for that burn in the rug.”

 “Hot dang,” Finn laughs airily. “She always that intense?”

“Better than she used to be,” Ben sighs, his own disposition gloomy and irritable.

Poe raises a brow, motioning Ben through the joining door. “I’m sure she’s learning from the best,” he says encouragingly before mouthing a silent exclamation at Finn.

Finn snickers as they trail after the Solo’s for a bite to eat.

They’re all followed by an annoyed shout: “ _Your tickets, please_!”

***

Poe stretches as he saunters out of the station, waiting for their car to pull up. His jacket and scarf are discarded over one arm, and he hopes for his husband’s sake Finn isn’t serious about buying long underwear. The warm temperature is a shock for sure, and he can’t help feeling the lack of snow is going to drastically hurt Vermont’s seasonal business. He stands until he sees Finn coming up with their trunks, then hurries forward to pull his weight.

Much to Poe’s amusement, the Solo siblings follow shortly behind, caught up in what appears to be a continuation of the previous night’s argument.

“Sometimes fate needs a little push!” Ben is saying as he repositions a stack of mismatched suit cases on his back.

“You’re going to push and pull us right out show-biz,” Rey mutters back, jabbing a suitcase into his chest. “Just like last month with that lounge singer you tried to hook us up with. I won’t be showing my face in Boston for decades!”

“Had it worked, you would have been grateful,” Ben hisses back. “And this _wasn’t_ my idea!”

“It had better not be.” Rey turns and instantly lights up when she sees the ‘holidaying’ Damerons waiting for them. “Good morning, Mr. Dameron and Mr. Dameron,” she greets them cheerfully, even if her smile is a little forced.

“Oh, Poe and Finn, is fine,” Poe says, putting an arm around Rey’s shoulders and directing them to their lift. “Got us a ride to the Inn right here.”

“Hang on,” Ben says, stopping to look up at the warm, blue sky. “You’re sure this is the right Vermont?”

Rey blinks up at the sun. “Hey, no kidding! Isn’t this supposed to be ‘Winter’s Playground?’” she asks, tossing her suitcase in the back of what appears to be an old army jeep.

“Hasn’t snowed in two weeks!” the driver pipes up. “I’ve been taking more people back to the station than we’re bringing in.”

“If that’s the case, Columbia might cancel.” Ben frowns, hesitantly dropping the rest of their luggage in the car. “I have a bad feeling about this.” The comment earns him a groan from his sister.

 “You may as well get in,” she says sighs, looking over at Poe and Finn. “Although _I_ have a feeling you’re going to be awfully disappointed.” 

***

Poe pulls open the immaculately embossed white doors of the Columbia Inn. The other performers stream past him as he idly takes in the lofty ceiling, the polished wood, and the pleasant smell of pine. At this time of year a ski lodge this attractive should be bursting with business. Now the only noise is the sound of their feet on the hardwood, and the door latching softly behind him.

“Can I help you?” A tall, blond woman says as they walk up to the front desk. Her voice seems loud in the quiet building. “I can give you any room you like, including my own.” She gives a wry smile, leaning her elbows on the wood counter in front of her.

“We’re the Solo siblings,” Rey says, tipping her head toward Ben. “You’re floor show?” she adds hopefully.

“I thought you’d be showing up soon,” the large woman replies. “We can pay you the half-salary to cancel. I’m afraid our floor is rather empty.”

“Is it really that bad?” Finn asks, stopping as he goes to set his suit case down.

“I hung the laundry on the ski line today,” the lady laughs humorlessly. “You’re not going to stay either, are you?”

“We did come for the show,” Poe agrees guiltily, hefting his own suitcase back up. “I suppose we’d better –”

He is interrupted by a man bursting in through the back door, fiery hair catching the sunlight, and arms full of freshly cut wood. “Phasma, why in heaven’s name is the laundry on the-”

“General!” Poe shouts, gaping at the ginger-haired man. He immediately empties his arms of his belongings and raises a stiff hand in salute.

“Captain Dameron?” the General responds, though his surprise is shown solely by a raised brow.

“General Hux?” Finn’s mouth falls open. He also throws his luggage to the ground and jumps to attention. “Sir!”

“At ease, gentlemen,” Hux snaps halfheartedly, dropping the wood on an orderly stack by the door and picking up a bucket of potatoes.

“A janitor,” Finn gasps.

“Didn’t think I’d make it, did you?” Hux snorts.

“No -I mean yes, sir,” Finn sputters. “I mean you can do whatever you set your mind to sir – but a janitor?”

“Oh it’s worse than that,” Hux replies wryly. “I own this inn.”

“A landlord,” Poe breathes. “But whatever happened, begging your pardon, General?”

“We just try to keep the general part quiet,” Hux says, wincing ever so slightly. “We keep _all_ of it quiet, or I’d never get any work done.” He holds up the unpeeled spuds in way of explanation. Anyone who served would understand kitchen duty.

“Oh, yes, sir, uh, Mr. Hux?” Finn replies, shooting an anxious look at Poe who shrugs.

“I’ve heard you two have done quite well for yourselves,” Hux continues, looking over the group. He pauses when he sees Rey, and his eyes widen ever so slightly as his attention lingers on Ben. “Are you planning on introducing me to your friends?”

“We’re the Solo siblings,” Rey says immediately. “I’m Rey.” She elbows her brother in the back, prompting him when he doesn’t follow suit.   

“Ben,” the brooding man says simply, putting out a large hand, which Hux accepts instantly. His eyes lock with the General’s green gaze and his lips get stuck partially open, his voice gone.

“Armitage,” Hux replies, meeting Ben’s informality with surprising comfort. “We’re glad to have you.”

Poe and Finn share a quick glance, their eyes wide.

 _Armitage?_ Finn mouths, disbelief clear on his face.

Poe whistles silently, brows rising.

“I’ve already told them the bad news,” Phasma interjects from the desk. “I’ll write them up the half salary.”

“We’re not cancelling,” Hux huffs. “I’ve signed a contract!”

“Which says you can pay half-salary for cancelling,” the blond reminds him dryly. 

“Mr. Hux, you needn’t feel obligated,” Rey says. “We can see there’s no snow.”

“We have a floor, don’t we?” Hux asks sharply, but with a faint smile. “I didn’t hire you to ice-skate.”

“If you’re certain.” She puts out a hand to shake on it, only to realize Hux and her brother are still holding hands. Not sure what to do, she pats their clasped hands awkwardly.

Hux pulls back his hand hastily and clears his throat. “Be there tonight, or I sue.” He nods to his former officers before briskly making his retreat to the kitchen with a stiff gait, and a swinging bucket.

Voices erupt as his thin, albeit military straight, man is out of sight.

“That’s _Armitage Hux_? The singer?” Rey hisses quietly, pulling at Ben’s sleeve, but looking past him with wide eyes as though Hux might suddenly reappear. “I’m right, aren’t I? Ben?”

Ben turns to Finn and Poe, ignoring his sister. “You served under _Hux_?”

Finn looks at Poe. “Hux is _here_?”

Poe puts out his arms for quiet and turns to the front desk. “Phasma, right?”

“That’s me,” the woman replies, still leaning absently against the solid wood.

Poe puts up a finger, trying to get his thoughts in order. “The war ends and Armitage Hux is A.W.A.L. – nowhere to be seen on stage, or in service – and now he’s running a _ski lodge_?” Poe feels like shouting. “He saved my life – both our lives” he says, motioning between himself and his husband, “And then what. He gives it all up? Retires to _Vermont_?”

“It wasn’t by choice, I assure you,” Phasma says, a stern glare replacing her previously careless expression. “But he’s sunk everything he has into this place – it used to be a barnyard. If you served under him then you know he doesn’t do anything in parts.”

“Isn’t that a kick in the pants,” Poe says, rubbing at his face wearily and finding a nearby chair to fall into.  

The room is silent once again.

Finn rubs Poe’s back empathically while Rey’s eyes dance wildly around the group.

“Were you the reason he quit singing? Why he retired?” Ben asks suddenly, his face blank as he looks at the couple.

Poe doesn’t respond but looks at his feet, forehead against clenched fists.

“We’ve suspected,” Finn says tightly, his face serious for once. “He took a bullet for us – a number of them really. Then we moved up to the front and never heard what happened, just knew we couldn’t track him down.”

Ben pulls a hand through his long hair and looks up at the richly stained rafters. “Armitage Hux, huh?” he murmurs. He closes his eyes and takes in a long, slow breath. “Phasma?” he looks at the woman briefly, and she nods, waiting. “Unless business picks up, we’re only taking half salary. No argument.”

“Good luck,” the blond replies, shaking her head and grabbing some keys for their cabins. “He won’t back down.”

“He won’t have a choice,” Ben insists sternly. “Book us in.”

“Pushing , pushing,” Rey mutters as she grabs a key and heads outside, full of nervous energy. “Don’t lose us our job before tonight!” she calls over her shoulder as the front door falls shut.

Ben followers her out a moment later, seemingly lost in his own head.

Poe looks up at Finn with a tired smirk. “How’s Vermont sound?”

Finn grins, wrapping an arm around his husband’s shoulders and giving him a squeeze. “I hear it’s nice this time of year, all that snow.”

Poe laughs. “I don’t know about snow, but think I saw some sparks just now. Gives me another idea.”

“I think I know exactly where you’re going,” Finn laughs. “You don’t need to twist my arm.”

“Great!” Poe grins, jumping up. “Let’s get settled in and we can work out the plan.”

Phasma holds out their keys. “I have half a mind to toss you out now, before the trouble starts – but,” a wicked grin stretches across her face, “you boys might be just what the doctor ordered.”

***

Hux watches the Solos perform from the side of the chalet’s dining hall – a wondrously transformed space that had been a barn when he bought the old farm five years ago. He holds a stack of dessert menus loosely under an arm, military straight beside one of the restored and varnished support beams. Dinner is not busy tonight and he can take a moment to appraise the act he has hired. Even retired, Hux still keeps an ear to ground for up and coming talent. It’s his one remaining habit from his performing days.

The name Solo is beginning to creep into the entertainment circuit more and more as of recent. Seeing Rey Solo bounce around the floor brings him a pleased sort of contentment and Hux can see her charismatic appeal. She is bursting with potential in both song and dance. She is youth, and vigor, and talent – all of the things Hux lost in the war, stripped along with his posts on both field and stage.

He truly misses performing. There is a great deal of satisfaction to be found in taking the roughest of ideas and polishing it into a world class number, fine tuning until every aspect of the act is a well-oiled machine, and especially, using only his voice to captivate hundreds of people. Even here, secure in his newest profession, the former general knows he will never shake the feeling of melancholy and longing that haunts him.

This thought brings him to the oddity that is Ben Solo: far more withdrawn than his younger sister, even when putting on a stage persona. Their act is cute and charming, and it works well for the siblings, but Hux can see it doesn’t suit the man. He blinks when he begins to see a black force form around Ben, creeping up his legs, wrapping tightly around his firm chest, and twisting around his throat amongst his unusually long hair. A trick of the light. Hux wonders if the elder Solo harbors the same sort of feelings as he suffers – whether he vainly attempts to hold back the emptiness that slowly sinks into one’s mind, and poisons the soul, until nothing recognizable is left.

No, he doesn’t need to guess. Hux can see it in the other man’s eyes. The bone deep sadness is painstakingly guarded, but unlike the audience, Hux can look right past the façade; He is confronted by the same pained eyes every morning in his spotless bedroom mirror.

The appreciative applause of the small crowd shatters Hux’s musings.

Their naivety is startling.

Or perhaps Hux is only projecting himself onto Ben Solo, desperate to meet another soul in his personal purgatory.

The Solos are worthy of a hearty applause and he concedes, if only for their performance and not some existential battle with hidden demons.

Hux sighs and moves to pass out the dessert menus. It will be a disservice to his chef if her award winning chocolate mousse is not appreciated.

***

A few days at the empty chalet watching Hux take in the Solos’ act, and Poe knows they need to put their plans into action.  

Thanks to some scheming and clever excuses from Finn, Ben is out and Rey is conveniently eating breakfast in the lounge with the Dameron’s, both of whom are regaling her with war stories.

 “We ate and then he ate; we slept, then he slept,” Poe is saying.

“Ya, then he woke up and we didn’t sleep for forty-eight hours,” Finn snorts. “I still start in the middle of the night thinking I can hear his voice.”

“It’s tragic. That Mr. Hux had to retire,” Rey says. “I can’t imagine having to give this up, and he had to put two careers aside.”

“We’ve been thinking about that,” Finn eases in, passing her a basket of fresh pastries. “It seems a shame to see this place empty when there’s so much talent sitting right here.”

Poe nods, refilling Rey’s glass of frothy milk. “I mean, there’s no skiing, but this is an ideal venue! We could try out some new material – bring in lots of people – use them like guinea pigs.”

“And not to brag, but the Dameron’s have never failed to pack them in,” Finn adds. “Uh, people I mean, not pigs.”

Rey laughs heartily, nearly choking on her milk. “You want to bring your show here?” Rey asks as she shoves a warm croissant in her mouth, licking her fingers after and savoring the buttery flavour. “What about our head honcho? Mr. Hux seems the type to flip his wig if you’re offering handouts.”

“It’s all about using the right angle!” Finn explains. “We just have to frame it right, impress on him how ideal the place is for our purposes.”

Poe digs out a worn little notebook. “I thought we could do some of our old nightclub numbers, fit in you and your brother here and there.”

 “Shouldn’t we run it by Ben first?” Rey asks, buttering a second flaky croissant and stuffing it with cold cuts. “He might be a knucklehead sometimes, but he is our manager.”

“He’s already on board,” Poe assures her. “Your brother guaranteed us he’s happy to collaborate as long as you are willing. In fact, he’s out making some arrangements for us right now.”

“Besides, we have a suspicion about him and Hux. I think we’d better give it a little push,” Finn whispers conspiratorially.

“A suspicion about what?” Rey chews slowly and leans in to listen.

Poe and Finn smirk at each other and copy Rey.

“I’ve never known Armitage Hux to give his first name, especially to someone he’s just met!” Finn says gleefully. “Now maybe he’s changed, but it’s almost like he was making a pass at him.”

“But they’re practically strangers!” Rey argues, nearly choking on her breakfast.

“We’d like to take care of that too,” Finn teases with a wink.

Rey frowns. “I understand your desire to help out Mr. Hux, but you really think he’s keen on my brother? You’ve met Ben, right?”

“Trust me,” Poe says, sitting back in his seat and pointing at his eyes with two fingers. “These peepers have seen a lot, and this is the real deal. I’d go belly up in this biz if I couldn’t read people.”

“Either way, it’s a great opportunity for everyone involved,” Finn insists. “Besides, a few days off and I’m already itching to get back in the game.”

“And it gives us a chance to repay the General,” Poe emphasizes. “Which is the most important aspect.”

“I guess you’ve twisted my arm then,” Rey finally admits. “I’d have to be off my rocker to pass up a chance to work with you.”

“It’s a deal then!” Finn eagerly puts out his hand.

“It’s a deal,” Rey says with a grin that grows nearly as large are her croissant. “But I warn you, my brother is a real slow mover. I’ve never seen him with a guy for longer than a few dances. I doubt you’re going to get any results from that ‘angle’ _._ ”

Poe laughs. “Not to worry. When it comes to slow movers, I’d wager he’s in there with the champ.”

***

Ben can’t help but smile from his seat at the piano as he watches Rey up on the newly constructed stage in the dining hall. He’s convinced his sister to dance with Finn, and no one can keep up with them. It’s encouraging to see her true potential grow, and for the first time he feels hopeful that she might have a place to shine when he steps down. It saddens him to be breaking up the act, but it’s clear now he’s holding her back. Singing has never been an issue, but she needs someone who can keep up with her in all aspects of the performance.

“They’ve come a long way in a few days.” Hux comes up beside Ben, his arms bracing his chest in a way Ben has already come to associate with the man when he’s not working.

“Rey’s gifted,” Ben replies simply, lacing his fingers together and turning to straddle the piano bench and see Hux. “She can match Finn easily.”

Hux raises a brow, a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. “She has a proud brother too, I see.”

“She deserves it,” Ben retorts, a bit harsher than he intended. “Sorry,” he mutters.

“Not necessary.” Hux says lightly, shrugging it off. “Both are true.”

Rey bounds off the stage, leaving Finn to work with the trope. “Ben! Mr. Hux!” She plops down on the bench in front of her brother. “This choreography is amazing! How does it look from down here?” Her eyes sparkle as she dabs at the sweat on her temples with a shirt sleeve.

“Ugh, not with that!” Ben scolds, pulling out a handkerchief and handing it to her.

“I have no doubt this will bring in a great number of ‘guinea pigs’, as Mr. Dameron has kindly named our guests,” Hux huffs, rolling his eyes.

“A wonderful bonus for the Inn!” Rey beams. “What a happy coincidence!”

“Don’t kid a kidder,” Hux snorts. “I simply know it’s bad business to try and dissuade Poe Dameron when he gets an idea in his head – and now there’s Finn to contend with as well. Although I suppose there’s always been Finn and I failed to notice.”

“Say, you performed Mr. Hux,” Rey says tentatively. “What did you think of the number?”

“Wasn’t it a little slow?” Ben cuts in, shooing Rey off the bench with a glare so he can reach the keys again. “Right here – _Mandy, is the Minister handy._ ”

“Not if you play it properly,” Hux answers quickly, easily drawn in. His arms drop from his chest as he reaches for the piano.

Ben finds himself enclosed by the thinner man’s arms as the retired singer digs his strong fingers into the keys.

“You need the off-beats,” Hux explains, his breathing noticeably rough this close to Ben’s ear. “Isn’t that better?”

“Much better,” Rey agrees from somewhere out of sight.

“Much, much better,” Ben breathes as he turns to find himself nose to nose with his impromptu instructor. Had his eyes always been this green? “I’ll, uh, work on that.”

“Don’t be such an eager beaver,” Hux replies, his words breathy.

Ben’s face is hot.

He swears he can hear Rey gag behind him.

***

Poe comes into the chalet, breaking from rehearsal to grab a bite to eat.  He finds Hux alone at the front desk, his back to the door.

The General seems occupied, his frame stiff and a letter clenched in his shaking hands.

Poe can hear the sharp rasping of the other man’s breath and is hesitant to disturb him, but he stops in his tracks when he sees the emblem printed on the corner of the wavering paper. “Everything alright, sir?” he asks, not sure whether to approach or not.

Hux visibly starts, and quickly tries to shove the letter back into the torn envelope.  When the paper proceeds to crumple instead, he throws it away from himself and down the far side of the counter. His hand presses over his eyes as he supports himself against the solid wood. “I’m quite fine, Captain – Poe,” he says, voice strained but admirably steady.

“Was that from the army?” Poe asks, willing to press a little further. He waits for a reply, watching the taller man take in a shuddering breath. He earnestly hopes nothing unfortunate has happened.

“Simply an overdue response to an inquiry I made,” Hux explains mildly, dropping the hand from his face and grabbing a small stack of unopened envelopes as he turns around. “It seems I’d better get serious about my Inn keeping.”

Hux’s been trying to get posted, Poe realizes. He bites the inside of his cheek. If they weren’t willing to have him back after the war, there’s no chance the state will let the General back into active duty now. “Begging your pardon, sir, but there’s a lot to be said for a quieter sort of living.”

“Don’t worry yourself over me.” Hux lets out a soft, uninspired laugh. “Besides, I hear life starts at forty, haven’t you heard? I might make this place viable in time.” He flips through the letters, tossing all but one back on the counter for Phasma to deal with later. “Is Ben still rehearsing? There’s a letter for him.”

“Everyone should be taking lunch soon,” Poe replies, unable to do anything but answer the other man.

Hux nods and gives a small smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I won’t keep you,” he says, turning to leave Poe in the foyer. “Phasma should be setting out the food as we speak.”

Poe stands dumbfounded as he watches the man disappear into the dining hall. “It’s not enough,” he mutters to himself. “We need to do something bigger – better.” There’s a phone call he needs to make, sooner than later. He has a favour to call in.

***

When Hux can’t find Ben in the hall, he retreats back into the main chalet, hoping he hasn’t missed him somewhere in between.  He nearly walks past the small laundry room and does a double take when the sound of running water catches his attention.

Ben is hunched over the industrial sink, his head under the running faucet. A discarded shirt lies on the worn, tiled floor, and he stands in only a tight undershirt. His hair covers most of his face, but his mouth is set in a tight grimace as he lets the uneven flow of water wash over him.

Curiosity, but also concern, draws Hux through the door and closer to the large man. “Ben?” His voice comes out soft, and he gets no reply. “Ben?” he tries again, loud enough to be heard over the water.

The dark-haired man doesn’t startle, but tenses briefly before relaxing and removing his head from the water. His actions are stiff, like the movements of someone in pain. He quickly turns off the tap and squeezes the ends of his hair out before reaching for a rag to wipe off his face. “Armitage.”

Hearing his first name still catches Hux by surprise. He’s still not entirely certain why he offered it in the first place.  Perhaps it was Ben’s own simple introduction – no pomp or superlatives, just Ben. “Is everything all right?”

Ben twists the rag in his hands. “I could ask you the same,” he replies, his words clipped, but not irate. His dark eyes roam over Hux’s face from behind thick eyelashes, but his gaze keeps returning to the General’s eyes, which are likely red-rimmed.

“Only an expected letter,” Hux says. He shakes his head, not taking the bait to change the topic. It’s then that something odd catches his attention and Hux takes the remaining steps towards Ben. He reaches up a hand without thinking and pushes aside the dark, soppy hair from the taller man’s face. “I never noticed before,” he says, his finger tips lightly trailing along partially revealed scars. “Were you in the war?” Hux was hesitant but even more curious now.

Ben snorts at the uncharacteristically redundant question. “Everyone was in the war, General.” He soaks the rag in the sink, and rings it out before reaching up to scrub away the rest of the makeup on his face.

Hux watches Ben’s reflection in the mirror as a long pink gash reappears along his skin – and it doesn’t stop, but runs from his opposite eyebrow all the way down and across the man’s muscular shoulder.

Ben doesn’t turn or speak, but carefully pulls off his damp undershirt, revealing a mass of scar tissue on his left side. He stares at his lower reflection in the mirror before flicking his gaze to Hux. “We all have our scars, General,” he adds, moving away to grab a clean set of clothes he’d left on the ironing board. He pulls on the new undershirt, and reaches for the light button-up. One arm is pulled through when he falters, straining to move his left arm backwards to grab the other sleeve. “Damn it all,” he curses. “I always forget.

“Let me,” Hux is saying, helping Ben slip into the shirt before either of them stops to think.

“It slips my mind, sometimes,” Ben says brusquely.

 “I’m sorry. I overstepped.” Hux can understand not wanting to be pampered. He hates being catered to because of his physical limitations. He takes a step back and wraps his arms over his chest.

“No, I should apologize,” Ben says, turning back around, his cheeks red. “Thank you.”

“What happened?”

“Special forces,” the stiff man replies, gaze dropping to the floor. “Explosives, espionage – what you would expect. I took a bad hit. Nearly bled out. But I got lucky.”

Hux finds his arms dropping, forgetting about the tightness in his chest. “This scheme of Poe and Finn’s. It’s more than you signed up for.”

“I’ll push through,” Ben shrugs, finally meeting Hux’s eyes again. A small smile crosses his face. “It will be worth it.”

“I hope they haven’t caught you up in this on my behalf.” If Ben is suffering because of his former subordinates, he will be most annoyed – no matter their good intentions. “I’m not so ill-prepared that I can’t afford one bad season.” Too Hux’s relief, the other man laughs.

“I’m sure that’s their first priority, but it may ease your mind to know it’s not mine,” he assures Hux, combing a hand through his drying hair.

Hux finds himself smiling as well. “As a matter of fact, it does ease my mind. I’d hate to think you’re putting yourself through this for my expense – and as one broken veteran to another, I’m certain you can understand that.” _We have our pride, after all_. “I’d like to think we still have something to offer.”

Ben cocks his head, seeming to take Hux in a second time. “You seem to be feeling better.”

His brows rise at the statement, but Hux finds he can’t disagree. “I suppose you’re right.”

Ben rubs his neck absently. “Just for the record, I may have something important to look after, but I have no ill-will towards this whole production. I have every intention of pulling my weight and making this show a success.” He extends a hand to Hux. “I’ll work hard for you too, General – from one broken veteran to another. I’ll see this through.”

Hux clasps his large hand, firm in his finer fingers. “I’ll hold you to that. We signed a contract.”

Ben grins, blindingly and endearing. “That we did.”

Hux is certain a similar expression is reflected on his own face. “Oh!” He exclaims, suddenly remembering his purpose for finding the man in the first place. He holds out the letter. “Mail for you.”

***

“Take 10, kids,” Poe calls to the troop, jogging down the stage stairs. Rehearsals are going well, but they never cut corners, and Poe needs a breather. “I’ve been thinking – what do you think about keeping Rey on with us after this shebang wraps up?” Poe asks his husband as he grabs a glass of water off the piano.

Finn raises a questioning brow, lowering the folder of music he is sorting. “I thought that was the plan when we came here,” he says, shaking his head.

Poe pauses, then lets out a short laugh. “You know how I think better than anyone, myself included!”

“But if you’re formally asking, it seems like a great idea,” Finn says with a pleased grin. “It’s nice to have that third party to play off of, and she adds a unique flavor to all of the acts – not to mention she’s one dang good dancer.”

“I’ll try not to take offense,” Poe teases. “I know I’m only here for my good looks.”

“I thought that was my job,” Finn jibes back. “I’ve started making too many assumptions today. Next you’re going to tell me Hux is your long lost brother.”

Poe laughs again. “No ginger on my side of the family, pal, unless you’re talking about my mother’s Christmas Cake. Speaking of the General, how is our plan going?” Poe asks, lowering his voice.

A wicked look passes across Finn’s face. “I gave Ben some music to look at for tomorrow, but I messed the part up real good first,” he murmurs back. “It’s outside his range and I’m sure he’ll be up late trying to re-score it. All we need to do is send ol’ Hux that way and they’re bound to end up working on it together. It’s in his blood – once a performer, always a performer.”

“Have I told you lately that I love you?” Poe asks, admiration swelling in his chest. “How’d I end up with a clever guy like you, anyhow?”

“You’ve seen your face, right?” Finn laughs, stepping into Poe’s space. “Maybe you’re the pretty one after all, babe.” He puts a finger under Poe’s slightly stubbled chin and tips his face up gently.

Poe’s attention is pulled away by a flash of blonde hair over Finn’s shoulder.

It only takes Phasma a few long strides to cross the room and hang over the piano.

“Hope I’m not interrupting anything, gentlemen,” the tall woman says with a smirk.

“Just the usual daytime programming,” Poe replies drolly. “What can I do for you?”

“I have Ed Harrison on the line,” Phasma answers, gesturing back to the lobby. “Says he’s returning a call.”

“Dang, didn’t think he’d go for it,” Finn says in astonishment. “What’d you tell him?”

“Nothing yet, but just you wait – he’ll be on board.” Poe gently pushes Finn back and bounds out of the room.

 “You sneaks have more plans up your sleeves, don’t you?” Phasma asks, shaking her head at Poe’s endless enthusiasm.

“You haven’t seen anything,” Finn replies. “But maybe I’d better go listen in. I have a feeling this is going to get expensive.”

“Well, let me know if I can help.” She claps him on the back and gives him a rare, honest smile. “Haven’t seen Armie this happy since he beat me at chess in grade school – even if his mood has more to do with Ben Solo than you two.”

“ _Armie_.” Finn chuckles as they follow after Poe. “What do you think he’d do if I called him that?”

“You enjoy having all of your limbs?” the woman asks Finn with a devilish gleam in her eyes. “Don’t.”

***

“If I move this down a third, and have Rey take the upper line…” Ben mutters to himself as he scribbles and revises the musical score in front of him.

It’s not like Finn to give Ben a part he can’t sing. The Dameron’s are both sticklers for detail, and Finn is by far the worst.

He sighs and puts down his pencil. Ben takes to music easily, but he got into show business for Rey. The technical aspects of the job, like rescoring a part, usually take him a lot longer than trained musicians. “This is going to take all night,” he groans, stretching his arms above his head and pushing back from the piano he’d moved into the empty lounge.

Thankfully Phasma left him with a large platter of sandwiches to get him through the night. With a mind to eat his fill of roast beef and liverwurst, he plops himself down at the empty bar. To his delight he finds a pitcher of butter milk as well.

A set of brisk footsteps echo in the otherwise silent chalet and he turns to the doorway, a mouth full of rye bread and sliced meat.   

“You up for a late night snack as well?” Hux asks, his feet easily navigating the few steps down to the bar.

“Nah, I can’t seem to get this arrangement to sit right,” Ben replies, washing his mouthful down with the creamy milk before brushing the back of his hand over his mouth. “Finn left me with a mess to fix and I’m not terribly fast at scoring. How about you? It’s getting late.”

“It’s hard to sleep some nights,” Hux says quietly, moving behind the bar and grabbing himself a clean glass. “My lungs acts up from time to time, and if I try to sleep it ends…poorly.”

Ben hums sympathetically. “Those sorts of memories have a bad habit of coming back.”

 “Say, I don’t do much in the way of singing nowadays, but I could take a look at that music for you if you’d like,” Hux offers, fishing out a sandwich for himself. “I wouldn’t mind having something to do if I’m going to be awake anyway. No one appreciates me chopping firewood at this hour.”

Ben gives him a sheepish look. “If you wouldn’t mind,” he replies, his cheeks feeling warm. “Honestly, I’m in over my head, and it’d make Rey look bad if I asked anyone for help.”

“And she has rehearsal first thing in the morning,” Hux adds, frowning when Ben gives him an amused look. “It’s posted on the schedule, Ben. I do try to keep an eye on what happens in my inn.”

“Nothing gets past you,” Ben chuckles. “But you’re right. I’ve made sure she gets lots of stage time, so she needs her sleep.”

Hux leans against the counter, munching on his snack thoughtfully. “You’re good to her.”

“Someone had to be,” Ben says with a shrug, stuffing the last quarter of his sandwich into his mouth and heading back to the piano.  “Of anything that’d happen to me because of the war, leaving her behind was the worst.” He picks up his pencil and raps it absently against the back of the old upright. “She’s my cousin, really, you know. Not my actual sister. My mom took her in when my uncle went missing on some spiritual journey in Asia, but my parents haven’t really been there for her either.” Ben riffles through his music absently. “She was thirteen when I got back from Europe, and it was like meeting a stranger. I’d just become another person who had left her behind.”

Hux lightly sits down beside Ben, reaching up to ease the larger man’s fingers from the papers before he crumples them. “You did come back, in the end.”

“But the kid got too good at looking after herself while I was overseas,” Ben presses on, the feelings for his sister bubbling out in a way he’s never shared before, and he can’t stop now. “I guess she decided it wasn’t worth relying on anyone else anymore.”

“She’s strong willed,” Hux muses, his hand lingering lightly over Ben’s. “I can see that in you as well.”

“She sang as a kid, danced too,” Ben adds, pulling out his hand and taking Hux’s in his palm. “It was all we had left when I made it back home, so I made it work.” He catches the remains of a small, warm smile as he braves a glance at Hux.

“Rey is lucky to have you.” Hux squeezes his hand gently, guiding their arms down between them. “She’s the reason you’re here, isn’t it? She’s Priority One for you.”

Ben nods, feeling a bit embarrassed, but relieved to reveal his concerns to someone. “I suppose I worry too much, but I know I’m holding her back,” Ben admits quietly. “Finn and Poe could do a lot for her, and she likes them – they’re decent fellows.” He looks down at the bench, and at their intertwined fingers. “They might even take her on if this goes well.” His stomach curls like a snake ready to attack. What will he do if it they don’t? He bites on his bottom lip, ready to force away the wave of anxiety he knows is about to hit.

Hux sighs suddenly. “I had this theory once – a song really – that might help,” he offers. His face is straight, and his gaze avoidant, but a faint flush rises on his cheeks. “Would you like to hear it?”

“I thought you didn’t sing anymore?” Ben blurts out before he can think, cringing immediately.  

“Do you want to hear the song, or not?” Hux huffs, his intimately soft appearance replaced with something closer to his usual temperament.

“Of course I want to hear it.” Ben curses under his breath. “I’d love to hear it,” he murmurs, half hoping Hux doesn’t hear.

“Very well. Pay attention then.” Hux clears his throat. “It goes something like this:

‘ _If you’re worried and cannot sleep,_

_Just count your blessings instead of sheep,_

_And you’ll fall asleep, counting your blessings…_ ’

Ben can’t help but be mesmerized by Hux, a man who was once a legend on stage. The pleasant vocals ease into his mind and his tense muscles relax. It’s like he’s witnessing a different person, or perhaps the person Hux used to be – whole and unhindered by the wear of life.

But then Hux falters, his breath catching and his voice threatening to break.

Ben jumps in and bridges the gap smoothly, meeting him with his own voice.

               ‘… _and we’ll fall asleep, counting our blessings_.”

Hux meets Ben’s gaze with wide eyes, a hand shooting out to latch onto his sleeve like a life line.

Ben smiles fondly, searching Hux’s eyes as they both fall into a companionable silence.  

They sit in the cozy, dream-like space, their foreheads slowly falling together. Noses bump lightly and their breath mingles.

“I don’t know what you plan to do after the holiday, Ben, but there’s a place for you here if you want it. And knowing you’re looked after might make it easier for Rey to move on,” Hux offers, his voice tentative. “You’re welcome to whatever I have to offer, whatever it is I have left – even if Rey needs a contact, I’m sure I can still pull a few strings.”

“That’s a lot more than I can offer you,” Ben replies wearily, brushing the back of his finger down Hux’s thin shoulder. “But I’m grateful.”

“You don’t need to offer me anything,” Hux replies faintly, his raspy breath tickling Ben’s lips. His nearly transparent eyelashes flutter. “But if I may ask, would you sing with me again sometime? I can’t support my voice for long anymore, but even so…” he trails off.

“Of course.” Ben smiles, his worries momentarily pushed aside by the thought of his own future – something he hasn’t considered in years. “As often as you like.” He gently presses his lips to Hux’s, warmth filling his chest. Ben runs a thumb across the General’s cheek and caresses his soft, lightly freckled skin. He can feel Hux’s hands slip around his broad back and he pulls him closer.

“Oh, excuse me!” Rey squeaks from the doorway. “I’m sorry! Phasma said there are sandwiches…”

“There’s a spread on the bar,” Hux says unabashedly, not taking his eyes off her brother. “Help yourself.”

“I will, goodnight,” she replies quickly, darting to the plate of midnight snacks before disappearing back out to her cabin.

“I think I’ll sleep easy tonight,” Ben says, watching his sister scurry away out of the corner of his eye. He nestles his head into the crook of the ginger’s pale neck. “And I know exactly what I’m going to dream about.”

Hux replies with a contented sigh. He aimlessly cards his fingers through Ben’s thick hair, nearly lulling them both to sleep.

Ben’s not sure how long they stay this way, but he mourns the loss of contact when they finally part, a musical score waiting to be edited.

***

Rey sits at the back of the crowded parlor. Her velveteen skirts spread around her and take up the majority of the couch. It’s kind of Mr. Hux to throw the cast a party, but she has too much on her mind to feel like mingling. She blows on her hot coffee, her mind replaying the previous night over and over. It hadn’t occurred to her to pay attention to the quiet conversation she’d heard around the corner, and after the shock of seeing her brother. . . all she can remember are bits about singing with Mr. Hux and pulling some strings for her? Wait, hadn’t he said something about making it easier for her to move on?

 “Why hasn’t he talked to me?” she mutters into her cup, wrinkling her nose as she gets a face full of steam. The more she thinks about it, the more she realizes Ben has been pulling away. They have no dance numbers together anymore, and he’s even begun situating her between Poe and Finn in the choreography. Has he tired of being her partner? Or maybe he’s found real love and doesn’t need his sister tagging along anymore.

It’s not that she doesn’t want to see her brother happy, but is he going to try and get rid of her?

“That’s it, I’m asking him,” she says, nearly spilling her coffee as she suddenly stands, and startling those sitting nearby. She strides across the room, brushing past the piano and into a small group of dancing couples to where Ben and Mr. Hux stand still amongst them. “Ben, we need to talk.”  

Ben turns to her, his expression overjoyed. “Rey, you have perfect timing.” He takes her hand and drags her in for a hug. “I have some news!” he says, repeating the statement for the room to hear. Ben turns to the pianist and asks for a few chords to get the room’s attention. “I don’t know if the best things happen while you’re dancing, or just in Vermont –” The crowd chuckles approvingly and Ben continues. “But Armitage has just asked me, I mean I’ve just agreed –

“What Ben is trying to say, is that we’re engaged,” Hux finishes, bailing him out. Pride and confidence radiate from him, as he takes Ben’s hand in his.

A roar of approval fills the room, and pianist adds his own encouragement with a selection from the Wedding March.

_Engaged? No. Not this quick. Not yet!_

Ben is sweeping his fiancé up into a kiss, which is soon interrupted by Poe and Finn happily enveloping the couple in congratulatory hugs and handshakes.

_I’ll be okay. I can figure this out._

“Rey, darling, is everything alright?”

She’s not even sure who is asking her.

“Rey.” It’s Mr. Hux this time. Armitage, as Ben calls him. “I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you first. I hope you don’t mind.”

“You realize you’re getting the most wonderful man in the world,” Rey says with a thick voice, when she finally finds the words. _You’re taking him._

“I know it means we might have to break up the act, but I know you’ll be okay,” Ben says, putting a hand on her shoulder.

“Congratulations, Ben,” she says, clutching his hand and trying her best to be happy for her brother. _You’re leaving me behind._

“Champagne!”Phasma declares, heading to the kitchen.

“I’ll help you with that,” Rey offers quickly, hurrying after the woman. _“You’ll be okay.”_ Of course she will be. She learnt how to take care of herself a long time ago.

Phasma brings over a tray of glasses, mysteriously set up and ready to be filled. “You’d think he had this planned,” she chuckles, winking at Rey as she pops open a bottle and distributes the drink.

“You’d think,” Rey echoes faintly.

“I’ve got this one, if you want to grab another,” Phasma says, nearly skipping back out to the jubilant crowd. 

Rey clenches her fits on the edge of the counter, her eyes burning. She hears the door creak, followed by soft footsteps. She quickly turns away.

“Rey?” It’s Ben’s low tone. “Is everything alright?”

“I’m just helping with the drinks,” she says, her voice uncomfortably high. There’s no movement, and she knows she’s not convincing him.

She hears him shuffle forward. “Rey, I know I might sound like an idiot, but maybe this will be for the best. The production is a huge success. You can do whatever you want now, with whoever you want. ”

“I’m sure that number you and Mr. Hux were working on will be great too.” She shuts her eyes, squeezing them tightly. “But I should get some sleep.” Rey urges her feet to move and she feels the backdoor against her palm.

“That’s not, we’re not –”

Rey cuts him off and pulls away when his hand falls on her arm. “Isn’t your fiancé waiting?”

“Rey –”

“Ben, we’re doing toasts!” a shout calls from the parlor.

The distraction is just enough for Rey to dart out the door. She won’t spoil his night – Ben has been good to her, and she owes him that, but she won’t wait to be left behind. Not again.

***

“Plan B is well under way,” Poe declares to the small group in front of him. He’d rounded up Finn, Ben and Phasma into a corner of the lounge. He needs them all to set their final plans in motion.

“What’s Plan B?” Ben asks. He crosses his arms over his chest as he leans back in his chair. “And better yet, plans for what?”

“For Hux. And You’re Plan B,” Finn says gleefully. “Thanks for cooperating.”

“Hey, I take offense.” Ben slaps his palms on the table their sitting around.

“Or you would if you weren’t about to get hitched,” Phasma laughs. “But I don’t think Poe is insinuating you’re a backup. Poor naming choice, Captain.”

“Alright, all in favour of renaming Plan A and Plan B?” Poe asks, raising a hand.

“Agreed,” Finn and Phasma reply, each raising a hand.

“Wait, what?” Ben sputters. “Will you please stop and explain?”

Poe puts up a hand. “Moving on from _Part 2_ of the ‘Repay General Hux for Saving Our Lives’ plan, and returning for the final stages of _Part 1_.”

“Ah,” Ben voices simply, understanding. “Wracked your brains for the name I see,” he quips.

“It makes its point,” Poe argues indignantly.

“I take it the talk with Ed Harrison went well,” the blonde woman asks, impervious to Poe’s over-acting. “Isn’t this venture costing you boys a fat wad?”

“Poe tells me it’s somewhere between, ouch and _boing_.” Finn winces, then shrugs. “But it’s worth it, and money will make itself when we go on tour again, especially if Rey agrees to join the show. It’ll be pennies from heaven!”

“Speaking of Rey, I couldn’t find her this morning,” Poe says, turning to Ben. “Have you seen her?”

Ben shakes his head, his brow furrowing. “Not since last night, and I’m a bit concerned. I know she was upset. I’m sure she’ll turn up once she’s had some space, but...”

“It may have been a shock for her, but I’m sure you’re right,” Poe agrees. “Besides, she’s not the type to miss a rehearsal. She’ll turn up in no time.”

“I hope so. Now, what’s the dope?” Ben asks, invested now that he knows he’s doing something for Hux.

“I know the General’s felt like he’s lost his place, and you’ve certainly helped him Ben, but we’d like to show him that he’s not forgotten,” Poe explains, passing it off to Finn.

“The way we figure, is that Hux disappeared without any real recognition from his troops,” Finn continues. “So we’d like to give him a chance to close that chapter properly, and also give the rest of our division the opportunity to offer their thanks.”

“That sounds good in theory, but how will you manage it?” Ben asks, skeptical.

“The Ed Harrison Show.” Phasma beams, waving a finger at Poe. “You’re going to go on the Ed Harrison show.”

“You’re a shrewd woman, Phasma,” Poe replies, hands over his heart. “I love it.”

“Alright, I’ll bite.” Ben leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “So you go on the Ed Harrison show tonight, and what? Ask the whole division to be up here by Christmas?”

“That’s the idea!” Poe exclaims. “And before you say it, I know we’re not going to get everyone up here, but there has to be enough people in the New England area alone to fill the hall.”

Finn turns to Phasma. “It’s going to get real busy, real fast,” he says, excitement kindling in his eyes. “Can you handle it?”

Phasma rolls her eyes. “You really think Armitage Hux hired just anyone? I organized supply lines for half the army,” she huffs. “I think I can take care of a few dozen guests.”

“Very good.” Poe claps his hands. “I’ll catch a train to meet Ed, Finn will keep rehearsal’s going, Phasma will make this place meet military standards, and that leaves Hux to Ben.”

“I’m responsible for prying him away from his favourite television program?” Ben asks doubtfully, running a hand through his hair. “I’m done for. He never misses that program.”

“Good luck, Solo,” Finn says solemnly, shaking his hand.  “You’re the only one with a shot at this.”

“If I have to rely on luck, I’m a dead man,” Ben snorts, getting to his feet. “Let me know if you see Rey. I have a rehearsal in five.”

“Yes sir!” Poe replies with a salute. “Let’s get busy, people!”

***

Ben has a plan worked out by the time his rehearsal is finished. It will be perfectly realistic for him to suddenly collapse from his old injuries, and it won’t take much imagination on Ben’s part to act it out. He hates to play on Hux’s sympathies, but he thinks the man will forgive him.

When the sun sets and the airing of the Ed Harrison Show draws near, Ben is waiting in the front foyer, ready for his part in Poe and Finn’s elaborate scheme.

Or he would be if Rey hadn’t missed her number with Finn. And her routine with the troop.

When the young woman still doesn’t appear by the time the rehearsals wrap, Ben is nearly beside himself. He should have followed her last night.

Ben doesn’t need an excuse to detain Hux anymore – he’ll find his fiancé and they can search for Rey together. 

He leaves his perch against the wall and pulls on his coat. When he reaches to push open the door, he nearly hits Hux in the stomach instead.

“Ben, I found you!” Hux gasps, relief clear on his face. He reaches for his pocket and pulls out a letter. “Our driver just returned from the station. Rey left this with him. It’s for you.”

“Left it?” Ben stops, jacket half buttoned, and grabs the letter. “Where did she…?” Ben reads it over, eyes darting over the page. He flips it to the blank backside multiple times, looking for more. “New York,” he sputters. “Why the hell would she think she needs to go to New York?”

“Hold on, she left?” Hux goes paler than normal, the blood rushing from his face. He reaches out a trembling hand and touches the place the scar is hidden on Ben’s face. “You never told her, did you? About your plans?”

“She didn’t need to know,” Ben protests. “It would only have worried her.”

“Ben, Rey left because she thinks she’s in the way – that I’ve replaced her,” Hux says emphatically.

Ben tangles a large hand in his dark hair. “I never dreamt she’d run off on her own.” He braces his other hand over his side, gripping the fabric that covers his old wounds.  “How could I not see this coming?”

“Breathe, Ben,” Hux urges him, guiding him into a chair.

His fiancé doesn’t look at him, he’s face vacant.

“Ben!” He snaps, brandishing his commander’s voice. “Breathe with me.”

This gets the man’s attention, and he heaves as the air enters his lungs again.

“Now out,” Hux encourages, his voice softer. He wraps his arms around Ben, breathing in a deliberate, steady rhythm.

Eventually their breathing sinks together and Ben relaxes in Hux’s hold.

“You need to go after her, Ben.” Hux kneels and looks up into his love’s deep eyes, determined to make this right. “Let her know she’s not alone. We’re not casting her out.”

“Right,” Ben says, taking in a large, cleansing breath. “Right.”

“If you go now, you might still catch a train back from New York,” Hux says, getting to his feet and tugging at Ben to stand. “At attention, Solo!”

Ben can’t help his engrained training, and he snaps to attention, before fixing Hux with an unamused glare.

“No time for that,” Hux commands, grabbing his arm. “No solider gets left behind. Time to march!”

***

After five years Rey had nearly convinced herself it would never happen, but in the end this time is no different.

It’s not like Ben’s ever been obligated to look after her, never mind stay with her. They aren’t lovers. They aren’t even really siblings. It was only a matter of time before Ben found his own way in life, apart from hers.

Can she really be surprised? Even her own father left, chasing after something bigger and brighter than her.  

But the Kanji-Club took her on in a heartbeat. She can make it on her own now. It’s alright if she’s alone.

The music starts and she makes her way to the floor. A small troop of dancers circle her as she sings.  It’s a melancholy song about heartbreak and false faces – a man with winter and snow in his heart. Rey finds it’s all too easy to let the darkness consume her as she performs. She wonders if success is always this bittersweet, or if this is an experience unique to her.

And then she sees Ben, waiting for her at a table in the audience, fidgeting like a suitor hoping to catch the attention of his favourite diva. Ben himself has always scared those types of people away. Always watching over her, always protecting.

But she doesn’t need a protector anymore. She doesn’t need her brother to shelter her from the world. He said it himself: She’ll be fine.

All too soon the song is over, and she makes her way to her brother, her head held high.

“Rey,” he starts, but is cut short.

“Not here,” she says, her fists clenched. She leads him into a dim hallway, out of the way and mostly out of earshot of her patrons. “Why are you here?” There is likely a rational explanation for his presence, but the sudden appearance sets fire to her boiling anger, igniting in place of the dark emptiness. She can hardly think. “I left, like you wanted. I didn’t even need your fiancé to help me. I’m fine, just like you said I would be.”

“Rey,” Ben pleads with wide eyes. “Please, that’s not what I meant. And you’re not fine. I know you.”

“Know me?” she seethes. “When do you ever really listen?” Her eyes blur and she pays no heed to the warm streaks falling over her cheeks.  “You were making plans to cast me off, to get me out of the way. So I did you a favour and left – isn’t that what you wanted?” she shouts, her face hot and palms sweaty.

“No!” Ben hollers, his voice booming. His body shakes and he tenses his fingers repeatedly, open and closed.

Rey staggers back in shock.

“No,” he repeats, reigning himself in. “Rey, I know I’m not very good at looking after you, but I’ve only ever wanted you to be happy. This whole big mess – I wanted to find you a place with people you could trust.”

“But why?” Rey asks, her voice wavering. “All your plans and schemes – that mess it Boston. Why do I need to leave?”

“It’s not you,” Ben says, visibly deflating. “I’m breaking down, Rey. The war put my body through too much. I won’t be able to stay on as your partner for much longer. I’m not trying to get rid of you – I’m trying to find _my_ replacement. I’m not throwing you out, I’m only letting you down.”

“And Hux is…?”

“A wonderful, unexpected hitch in the plan,” he says with a sad smile. “I didn’t go to Vermont to fall in love, Rey. I just needed a place where I could take it easy for a few weeks. Then Poe and Finn happened and it turned into an audition of sorts, and then I got to know Armitage.”

“Audition?” she takes a step towards her brother as he nods.

“Originally I thought they could help me find someone to be your partner, but I underestimated them. I think they’ve taken a shine to you,” he offers, hesitantly optimistic. “After so many failures, I really think I’m right this time.”

Rey crosses her arms over her chest and frowns heavily. “Why didn’t you tell me you were hurting?” she asks, more pained by this than any other betrayal. “I’m not a child anymore Ben. You can tell me the truth.”  

“Because you’re my baby sister,” he sighs softly. Ben loosens her arms and takes her hands in his, holding them gently. “After everything our family’s put you through I wanted you to be able to trust someone again – to trust me – but I never thought about trusting you in return. You’ve grown up Rey, and I should have seen that.”

“I’ve been telling you that this whole time!” Rey says with vigor. “I can think for myself!”

“I guess part of me is afraid of you losing yourself again – afraid that you’ll fall into the habit of being alone again,” Ben admits. “I couldn’t stand to see you like that because of me.” He bends forward and presses a light kiss into the top of her styled hair. “In the end I made a mess of it anyway. Sorry your brother is such a knucklehead.”

Rey grabs his arm and roughly pulls him in for a hug. “I’m still angry with you,” she mutters, burying her face in his chest. “Talk to me from now on.”

“I know.” Ben feels a wet spot seeping through his shirt and he wipes at his own eyes.

“And I like Finn and Poe, so I’ll come back,” she says, her voice muffled.  

He carefully pushes her away after a few moments and grabs the handkerchief from his pocket. “Not on the suit, Rey.”

She smiles and punches him in the arm before taking the cloth and cleaning her face. 

“Don’t you have a performance to finish?” he asks, nodding down the hall.

“I do – at the Colombia Inn,” she says sternly. “Let’s not disappoint my brother-in-law.”

“You’re a treasure.” Ben smothers her in a hug, lifting her off the ground.

“Ugh, Ben!” Rey pushes at him until he sets her down. “You’re injured, remember?”

“Right,” he laughs sheepishly. “Can we make it?” He pulls back his suit sleeve and looks at his watch.

Rey twists her head around to catch the time. “It’s going to be tight. I’ll meet you at the station.”

***

 “You mean to tell me, you decided to air out both of my suits _on the ski line_ , and now they’re covered in mud?!” Hux stands in his underclothes, staring down his best friend in the middle of his upstairs bedroom.

Phasma shrugs. “You still have your uniform. I can send these for dry cleaning tomorrow.”

“I will not appear in uniform!” Hux sputters angrily. What the devil is with this woman and the laundry?

“I’ll tell the Dameron’s you didn’t care to come down then. It’s not like they’ve done anything for you,” Phasma replies with a sniff.

“I never asked for their help” Hux argues, but Phasma doesn’t budge. “I should have you court marshaled! I functioned perfectly fine without you in the army!”

Phasma smirks. “And it took how many soldiers in your division to take my place? Put on the uniform, General.”

“Fine,” Hux relents. “Fine, alright, okay – you win. I bet you’re in cahoots with those two anyway.”

“Excellent.” Phasma smiles smugly. “I’ll go find my uniform and meet you downstairs.”

“God help me,” the General mutters, half-heartedly pulling out his old dress uniform. He runs a finger down the perfectly ironed creases. The smell of the fabric throwing him back to a time in his life that hurts to think about.

Hux left the his division before seeing them to the front line. It was an honorable discharge, but he felt no pride in it. Wherever his troops were sent, he would have seen them through it. Instead he spent the last days of the war in a quiet country hospital in Britain, not knowing if any of his division had survived until weeks later.

But many of the men and women had made it home, and now two of them were waiting for him downstairs. It’s little consolation, but he will make up for his sudden departure my donning this suit and watching over their performance until the end. He owes them that much.

His fingers remember the routine, and it’s less than a minute before he is dressed. The suit still fits, likely due to his day to day labour around the inn. He looks over his reflection: sharp green eyes, pale skin, and slightly longer than regulation hair. A flash of dark waves and deep, warm eyes flickers through his mind. He wonders what Ben will think, if he makes it back in time – if he’s able to convince Rey to return.

Hux turns on his heel and leaves the room, feeling the churnings of additional guilt in his stomach. Even if he is partially responsible for the division between the siblings, he knows Ben is the only one who can fix it. Right now he has other duties. He won’t let any more people down.

“Ready to go?” Phasma calls up the stairs. She offers an arm to her superior as he descends.

“Oh, why not?” he sighs, letting her direct them outside and into the dining hall.

For a supposedly sold out show, the building is unnervingly quiet.  A hush of anticipation hangs in the air.

Phasma steps to the side and Hux strides slowly into the hall, a spot light falling on him. After years away from the stage, the heat and brightness is almost foreign to him now, and he has to squint until his eyes adjust.

The festively decorated space is filled with families, many of the faces recognizable from photos shared with him overseas.  He scans the room and realizes the tables have been pushed aside to allow for two lines of men and women in uniform. His troops – the 151st division.  

One of his former Sergeants appears at his elbow. “Just routine, sir,” the man says, nodding to the soldiers waiting at attention.

 _Ah. Inspection._ Hux marches forward, his boots rapping sharply on the polished hardwood. He reaches the front of the line, and his heart swells. He remembers the last, short speech he gave to these people. It was this very night, Christmas Eve, five years ago. How long ago it seems.

“This unit is under the impression that neckties are not to be worn,” Hux starts, stalking forward intently, remembering their misconducts with something akin to fondness. “Neckties will be worn at all times.” He takes the steps leading onto the stage, turning sharply at the top to eye the troops. His hands clasp behind his back and his feet are shoulder width apart, knees straight. “You’re sloppy, undisciplined, and...” he pauses, looking them over, every bit civilian now in ill-fitting uniforms and soft forms. “And I’ve never seen any group of men and women look this wonderful in my whole life. Thank you all.”

The crowd applauds and he makes his way back down the lines, greeting his officers as he goes, and having every intention of seeking them all out before the night is over. He reaches the end to find Poe and Finn. He shakes their hands earnestly, noting their slight movements as though they’re going to embrace him, but refraining in front of everyone. “Thank you, both. I couldn’t ask for a nicer surprise.”

“Merry Christmas, sir.” Poe smiles, his eyes wet. “I hope we can offer a few surprises yet.”

“You can count on us,” Finn agrees warmly.

“I look forward to it,” Hux replies as he’s ushered to the central table. A large cake decorated with the ‘151st Division’ sits in the middle. He blows out the candles before sitting down. Phasma is to his right, and a number of his officers join them around the rest of the table.

There’s only one thing that can make the evening better, and he can’t help but glance toward the door.

“The night’s young,” Phasma whispers. “They might make it yet.” 

***

“Come on, Ben,” Rey urges from ahead of him. “You ran faster when those dancers in Boston were after you!”

“But they had a bat!” Ben barks back, gasping for breath as they make it to the Inn. What he’d give to be eighteen again.

“I’ll find a bat if you make us any later!” Rey snaps back, throwing open the side door of the barn-turned-dinner hall. “Now hurry!”

“What happened to our taxi anyway?” Ben huffs, smoothing down his hair. “That buster’d better have a good reason for not showing.”

They throw off their jackets, tossing them aside as they move. They changed on the train, and are ready to hop up on stage.

Rey heads backstage, but Ben stops. He can hear the music inside: White Christmas. His eyes burn and he puts his ear to the hall’s main door. Is he too late?

***

The dinner show is more than enjoyable, and Hux is nearly speechless with gratitude when Poe and Finn spring one last surprise on him.

Finn sits down on the edge of the stage, a small music box in his hands, and Poe skips down to Hux in the audience. He puts out a hand, and Hux feels his stomach drop.

He knows what he’s being invited to do, and he’s not sure he can. “Poe, I don’t think I’m able,” he says, his voice low.

Poe leans down, his own voice hushed. “Just a bit, if you’re willing. We’ll cover you.”

Hux nods, relaxing.  “Very well,” he replies, taking the offered hand and standing. “In that case, it will be my pleasure.” He follows Poe onto the stage once more, to the delight of the crowd. “I should be able to manage the first chorus,” he says to Poe, and nods to Finn.

Finn turns the tiny metal crank on the music box, much like the one he’d used during the impromptu concert five years earlier.  

Hux glances around the stage, enjoying the ambience of the moment.

Christmas trees, tinsel, decorations – everything he had longed for when he’d stood amongst the rubble of that bombed church. The homesick faces still stare back at him, even amongst the contented smiles of the audience. For the ones who didn’t make it home, he thinks, letting the music in.

               _“I’m dreaming of a White Christmas,_

_Just like the ones I used to know,”_

It isn’t a difficult song, in fact he’s sung it with Ben a number of times since their first night sitting in front of the piano, but he hasn’t taken a full hall of people into consideration. He’s only used to projecting enough for Ben to hear, in a private setting. He finds his lungs protesting after only a few lines.  He closes his eyes, willing the next few lines to come out clean.

Just as he fears, his voice begins to break, but instead of faltering he’s saved by a strong vocal line from the back of the hall – Ben, just now coming into the full room.

_“Where the treetops glisson, and children listen,_

_To hear sleighbells in the snow.”_

Before Hux can find himself out of breath, Poe steps up and takes the next verse, motioning for the audience to join them.

_“I’m dreaming of a White Christmas_

_With every Christmas card I write,_

_May your days be merry and bright,_

_And may all your Christmases be white.”_

Hux watches as Ben nearly sprints across the floor, and he finds himself skipping down the steps to greet him. He throws his arms around the large man’s neck, forgetting the crowd entirely. “You made it,” he breathes into the wavy locks, burying his face into Ben’s neck.

“Rey threatened to beat me if I didn’t,” Ben chuckles. “Merry Christmas, love.” He pulls his fiancé in for kiss.

They hear a gasp amongst the singing, and look up in time to see Rey pulling back the old barn doors at the back of the stage.

Fluffy white snowflakes already cover the barren ground, and she runs outside to twirl in the steadily falling flakes.

“We have a White Christmas after all,” Hux observes, leaning into Ben.

“ _May it always be merry and bright_ ,” Ben sings softly in response, watching his sister.

“Always.” Hux kisses his shoulder before taking his hand and tugging Ben back to his table to meet his guests.

***

“Rey, come join us for dinner!” Ben calls from inside. “You must be starving!”

It’s a beautiful night, and Rey feels at peace looking up into the endless falling snow. She hates to go inside and leave the sight, but she owes it Ben and Hux. 

Rey trots across the stage, but is stopped by a relieved shout.

“Rey! You’re back!” One of the troop dancers runs over, her satin dress billowing behind her.

“Jessika?” she guesses, hoping she won’t hurt the other girl’s feelings.

“You remembered!” The dancer beams. “Welcome home!”

“I-yes, thank you,” Rey replies, touched. She can’t even be mad at her for making assumptions – she really has come to think of the Inn as home.

“But never mind, I only wanted to give you this,” Jessika shoves a colourfully wrapped parcel into her hands. “Merry Christmas!”

Before Rey can reply, Jessika is gone, leaving her with the package and a red face. “Merry Christmas,” she murmurs.

“Cute,” Ben says, as Rey meets him on the floor.

“Quiet,” she retorts, but the edge in her tone is gone. A smile pulls at her lips as Rey holds the package to her chest. As they walk back to join the crowd, she can’t help but notice a flutter in her chest. “Let’s go talk to Armie.”

“Don’t let him hear you say that,” Ben chuckles, remembering what the Dameron’s told him.

“I’m his sister now.” She grins wickedly. “He’d better get used to it before I come home to visit you two.”

“Home,” Ben echoes. “I like the sound of that.”

“Me too,” she says, taking his hand as they meander back through the crowd. “Merry Christmas, Ben.”

“Merry Christmas, Sunshine.”


End file.
